“if we should learn her grace has died”
“you call her ‘her grace’”, the owl concluded
“although she bore no title, royal nor aristocratic”
the robin preened, “and yet she was no common woman either,
she moved with grace whether she walked or sat or stood
she conferred grace on any conversation she partook in
and often adorned any man in grace should she choose him
whether as a lover or as an agent to act where she could not
she created grace, it seemed, and bestowed it on her species
who are not muchly so inclined”
“alas not,” agreed the owl
“and yet she was implicated in at least one assassination
took lovers, and sent agents to raise rabble
to threaten parliaments when they considered laws
she thought unjust or inconvenient”
“was thought to send,” corrected the robin
“nothing was ever proved”
“at least one of her agents,” nodded the owl
“died rather than reveal her instructions”
“an ignoble accusation,” defended the robin
“the police later apologized to his wife
for their inquisitory methods”
“they did indeed,” the owl admitted
“although he stubbornly remained just as dead
and still would not tell them what she had instructed
the lady you call ‘her grace’, I mean, not his wife”
“he told them nothing his wife instructed either,” the robin grinned
as much as any bird can be said to grin
the owl smiled, I report with the same caveat
“I concede, then, you justly call her ‘her grace’
not just for how she moved but also for how she moved men”
the sparrows and crows and mockingbird
who had been silent for it
celebrated the end of this debate
and at least one man nearby
slowly got up and wandered off
newly perturbed by grace
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